


one bruise, two bruise, black bruise, blue bruise

by seranum



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seranum/pseuds/seranum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rose likes Gamzee, plays her card with a tight mouth, and is the biggest dumbdumb left in whatever remains of the universe.</p><p>previously titled: addiction is a powerful thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	one bruise, two bruise, black bruise, blue bruise

**Author's Note:**

> The human idea of kismesis probably follows the song [Kiss with a Fist by Florence+the Machine](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZOBRbVCJL4)

The hollow screams of terrors in the back of your head grow louder whenever you wander to the area of the asteroid that is in his reach. You discovered that when you went for your one of your daily walks around the unfamiliar lab, Seer robe the only splash of color in the entire place.

Karkat told you he was impossible to find. Don’t look for him, he says. He’s dangerous, he says.

\---

You walk up to him and tug on his messy hair to bring him down to your eye level. Your face is impassive, or you like to think that it is but you can feel a muscle twitch on your cheek as he scans you and smiles. The smile is jagged and the kiss feels like someone threw a handful of razors at a moving ceramic wheel. When you bite his lip he chuckles, the vibrations rumbling from deep in his chest.

\---

Things only get violent whenever you put down the needles.

You don’t scream when his leg sweeps under you and he smashes one of his ridiculous clubs over your shoulder. You never scream. It drives him up the wall and spurs him on farther and a tiny part of you loves that.

You aren’t the strongest physically but your nails are not to be disregarded. He’s wary of them now, and you feel a hollow sensation of satisfaction whenever he twists his back wrong, the scars still stinging as if they were new.

\---

He fascinates you, all the facets of his being shiny and dull and clunky and elegant and clever and slow. He’s a walking paradox, a living oxymoron, and you think Dave would highly approve. He has hair crazier than Jade’s and a smile to rival John’s. He shines brighter than Kanaya ever could and his softest growl is louder than Karkat’s most frustrated scream. He could outfox twenty Terezis and beat a thousand Aradias if he so chose. He has caused as many deaths as Sollux has partaken in and he is no fool, no, he leads the horrorterrors unlike you. Even his blood is your favorite color, several shades too dark but same difference, you like to think.

His love for you will forever smolder black and blue but sometimes you like to think there’s something lighter in there, a hint of fondness or even a smidge of care.

You are a fool.

\---

Sometimes you like to imagine him all trussed up and locked away somewhere Karkat can pap him to coherency. Somewhere you can see him without having to tear at his skin and spill his blood, sock him in the face and receive a kick in return. Somewhere he can never meet or see or think of your stupid brother, somewhere he can recuperate and heal and never break as badly as he did now. Although he wouldn’t want to go back to the days of drugged raps and conversations with burnt orange text. You wouldn’t want him to either.

You’re no optimist but you can at least dream.

\---

Once Jade and her golden ship arrived at the asteroid he started appearing more often, cornering you in dark halls and empty rooms, pressed pointy kisses all over your neck and shoulders leaving you decorated for all (john) to see.

Jade and John, bless their souls, worried over you like the mother you never had. You’re hurt, they cried. Let us deal with him, they demanded.

You shrugged them off with a small smile and soft kisses on the cheeks. They beamed at you and pet your face.

(later that night he carved spades onto your face with his claws, crooning hateful nothings. you didn’t scream. you never scream.)

\---

“Mr. Makara, I presume?”

“Who the motherfuck are you?”

“I apologize, that was rude of me. I thought Karkat had informed you of our names but I see that is not the case.”

“Who. The motherfuck. Are you?”

“I am Rose Lalonde, Seer of Light. It is an absolute pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

“It’s a motherfucking miracle, the messiahs all up and bringing me a hero. Of. Light.”

“Excuse me?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I felt someone exerting quite a bit of pressure in this area so I decided to find the source of it.”

“…”

“If you want me to leave, I shall show myself out.”

“Lalonde.”

“Yes? That is me.”

“You know the red text dude?”

“I assume you mean Dave since he is the only one out of us who types in red.”

“Yes. That jolly motherfucker.”

“Yes, he’s my brother. Although I like to believe that I hide my homosexual desires much better than he can—”

 “Tell me, will you scream like that brother will?”

“Wha—?”

\---

You don’t scream. You never scream. Because if you do, he’ll kill you.

He’ll leave you.

\---

You don’t believe in a God. You don’t believe in redemption, or damnation, or eternity.

“Kneel.”

Not to say you are a die-hard atheist. Religion is the opiate of the masses as a certain Marx said and you can see the sense in the statement.

“Don’t ignore me Lalonde.”

He spits your name out like it’s a curse, twisted burnt charcoal and rusted metal spikes. You wonder what it would be like to hear him whisper your name early in the morning, voice sleepy and lazy. You wonder if it would be softer, like the moonlight reflected on the dewdrop collected on a dandelion leaf, or if it would still have the same venom, only muted. Hiding.

“LaLONDE.”

Of course, you can’t expect anything that gentle from anyone. Your name is too haughty, slipping off the tongue too quick to be caught. Only smooth exits and rushed goodbyes for you.

“ROSE.”

You accept the clout to your ear with a hiss and move forward to punch him in the middle of his painted, thin little lips.

\---

Why, John and Jade and Dave ask. Why do you hurt yourself like this? they plea.

You set your broken nose with a sharp snap, fresh blood trailing down your face and you smile. Jade and John still flinch, after all they’ve seen, and Dave goes a little green but stands strong. (He’s seen you worse; he’s the one who patched you up after a scuffle ended with a cracked shin and two black eyes.) The looks of hurt and betrayal they shoot you don’t faze you and the fact that they will never ever understand makes your nonexistent heart break.

“A kiss with a fist is better than none, dearies.” You pivot on the heel of your flat and turn your back to your friends.

And you stride back for round two.


End file.
